


Unexpected Gift

by annabagnell



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Birth, Coma, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 03:50:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabagnell/pseuds/annabagnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The nurse pulled back the curtain and poked her head in shyly. "Mr. Holmes? Is it alright if I come in? There were some…abnormal results on John's blood tests and urinalysis." Sherlock's eyes widened and the nurse hastened to comfort him. She was flustered when she handed him the clipboard - against hospital policy, Sherlock thought - and said "Oh, no, it's nothing harmful. He's just…Mr. Holmes, your husband is pregnant."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hello again.  
> This one's really short and was a request from someone on Tumblr.  
> She wanted pregnant John in a coma and waking up only when he was in labour.  
> As always, rules of most universes are suspended during the period of time it takes you to read this fic. Wait...dude, are you floating? You're floating...gravity! Oh my god, gravity's suspended! Shit, hurry up and read, man! Sorry about that!

John shouldn't look like this. Too pale, too thin and dwarfed by the stark white mattress. Head propped up but lying weakly on a papery pillow. 

John shouldn't look like this. 

Sherlock reached out and laid his palm over John's hand, and breathed out slowly. He was warm, and that was like John, at least. Not as warm as usual, but to be fair, this was probably close to his resting temperature - he was always, always burning hot during sex. 

He was just warm, right now. And that was fine. 

The nurse pulled back the curtain and poked her head in shyly. "Mr. Holmes? Is it alright if I come in? There were some…abnormal results on John's blood tests and urinalysis." Sherlock's eyes widened and the nurse hastened to comfort him. She was flustered when she handed him the clipboard - _against hospital policy,_ Sherlock thought - and said "Oh, no, it's nothing harmful. He's just…Mr. Holmes, your husband is pregnant." 

* * *

 

The doctors were concerned that John's body would reject the foetus, but as the weeks went on, urine tests always yielded the same result. Absolutely, stubbornly pregnant. 

John's condition after the accident improved. Cuts and abrasions scabbed over and healed, tiny scars left in their wake. The shock wore off, his broken arm healed, and the weight he'd dropped during the first few weeks of his coma slowly came back. But John showed no signs of waking up. 

 _He's not gone, Sherlock,_ the doctors would assure him. _His body's just sleeping, his systems returning to normal function before his brain wakes up._

_He can hear you. Talk to him._

"John, you're pregnant. You…daft man, you got pregnant before this accident. And now there's going to be a baby, but you're not here to know about it. Wake up." 

"John, wake up. I can…your belly is showing."

"John, I miss you. Please wake up." 

"They did an ultrasound, John. The baby is growing. You're…you're growing, too."

"The nurses had to put you in a larger size of trousers. Your belly is getting big." 

"Our…our daughter is kicking you. You jerk every time it happens. Please wake up." 

"John, I can see it from outside now. Our daughter is big enough that I can see her move." 

"Can you please wake up? You're rubbing your belly in your sleep, now." 

"You're moving around more. Does your back hurt? I rub it as often as I can." 

"The doctors say it'll be any day now. Please wake up." 

"John, I miss you." 

"Please, John, wake up." 

* * *

 

Sherlock woke up to John's slow movements in the hospital bed. "Go back to sleep, John," he murmured, peering at the clock from his curled up position in the chair. 3:34 a.m. 

Then John whimpered.

"John?" Sherlock was wide awake now, sitting upright in his chair and looking through the dim light at his pregnant husband. The man had his face scrunched up in pain and he was clutching his belly. "Oh, god, is it time?" Sherlock rushed to the door but stopped short when he heard another noise.

"Sherlock?" John's bleary voice. "What's going on? Why does - oh, god, what's happened?" He was getting louder and more frantic, and Sherlock ran back to his side. 

"John, John, calm down. It's okay. You're pregnant. You've been in a coma for…nine months, approximately, and I believe you're in labour-"

"Hold the fuck up, Sherlock, you got me pregnant while I was in a _coma?_ Oh, you utter _bastard,_ I will kill you, oh sweet jesus christ that hurts-"

"You were pregnant before you got hurt, John, what kind of a person do you think I am?" Sherlock frowned, and though John glared it was _John_ and he was _awake_ -

"Don't hug me, you twat, I'm in labour." John shoved Sherlock off, but not before Sherlock managed to get one kiss in on John's forehead. 

"I'll go get the nurses. I'm…glad you're back, John." 

* * *

 

John was indeed in labour, pronounced the bemused doctor. "I would presume that the hormones-"

"And pain," John interrupted through gritted teeth.

"And pain caused your brain to jump start and wake up. Are you disoriented?"

"No, I just woke up with a nine month pregnant belly growing on my front and learned that I'm to deliver my first daughter within a matter of hours. I'm not disoriented at all." 

Sherlock guffawed. 

John glowered.

Sherlock shut up. 

"Alright, John, we'll save the questioning for later. Right now, you're dilated, and it's time to push." 

John gripped Sherlock's hand tight and pushed. It only took three strong pushes to bring the baby's head to crown, and though John cried out in pain the head broke free of his body only minutes later. A shock of blonde hair, covered in streaks of blood and fluid, was all Sherlock saw before John demanded his presence back up at the head of the bed. 

"You've got a lot of filling me in to do, once this is over," John panted, between contractions. Sherlock nodded and brushed a kiss along John's forehead and then the man twisted away and cried out once more. 

Five long, strong pushes brought their daughter's shoulders forth, and the rest of her body was quick to follow. Her weak wail grew stronger and louder and John reached out for his baby, and Sherlock stood by his side and ran his long fingers across her forehead as she was laid on John's belly.

"Quick, Sherlock, use that brain of yours and come up with a name." 

Barely a pause before Sherlock chuckled and said "Halle."

"Alright, tell me what it means." 

"Unexpected gift." 

"Oh, you arse. I love it. Hello, Halle." 

Sherlock dropped into a crouch beside the bed, at eye level with John and grinning widely as he watched their newborn daughter squirm on top of his husband. "John?" 

"Yes, Sherlock?" John turned to look away from his daughter, at his husband. 

"Thank you. For waking up."

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't have missed this for the world." 


End file.
